


Sitting Pretty

by AfflictedwithAlliteration



Series: Hard Candy [8]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: BDSM, Based on a Tumblr Post, Explicit Language, Grinding, POV Second Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Reader-Insert, Smut, gender-neutral, mafiafell, petplay if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-20 10:01:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22947169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AfflictedwithAlliteration/pseuds/AfflictedwithAlliteration
Summary: Being good deserves a reward.
Relationships: Sans (Undertale)/Reader
Series: Hard Candy [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/860084
Comments: 1
Kudos: 92





	Sitting Pretty

"The fuck you talkin' 'bout?"

Oh. 

He's angry.

His fingers stopping in your hair and you can see his smile twitch, fang flashing as he sits up straighter. He does is slowly so you enough time to adjust your position. Not to mention it gives you clear view of the person who pissed him off. Human. Figured. You smother a roll of your eyes, and rest your cheek on his thigh then return your gaze to Sans face, watching the flickers of emotion cross them.

You love seeing him like this. 

Nothing specifically, just all of it, and the way his voice drops several octaves when he's about to blast someone through a wall. Papyrus must have the same thoughts because he clears his throat and interrupts, steering the conversation away until Sans resumes petting your hair. You have to fight a smile and the sudden tingle it sends down your back. It's pins and needles, and yeah you love watching him but fuck if your knees don't hurt. You lean harder against him to take the weight off, the floor digging into your hip and his hand moves through your hair down to your neck. There is the smallest of squeezes, a reminder to be seen and not heard, before he resumes. This time his hand runs over your skin, stroking the side of your neck and under your ear like he would a stray cat. 

Your eyes slip shut, comfortable with the vibration of his voice rumbling through you until you feel the sting of magic in the air. You try to ignore it but it begins to pop against your cheek until your eyes flicker open. There is red flashing across the dimly lit room but your gaze is riveted to his face. Your watching the smirk play across it, the flare of magic in his eye, bright enough to burn. You're sure you look like an idiot grinning up at him but you can't help the swell of pride whenever you watch him work. Especially when he's getting ready to lay down the law.

"He's fuckin' dead."

"SANS! IS THAT REALLY NECESSARY?"

"Loose lips an' all that, Paps. Take care of it BP, 'cause if I gotta clean up your mess one more fuckin' time..." He lets the threat trail but the bone, wedged in the seat like it'd been there all along, sticking out precariously close to the cat monsters head is warning enough. "Now get the fuck outta my office."

"SHALL I GO WITH HIM?"

"If he can't handle it—"

"THEN I WILL."

Sans nods once, his shoulders only relaxing when the room is empty and gives a firm tug to your hair. Muscle memory makes you fluid, sliding up his knee and into his lap without hesitation.

"Been good?"

You tilt your head then nod, his grip relaxing enough to let you lean in and nuzzle his collar bone. "Yes, sir."

"Aww, we're alone kitten, ain't gotta be so proper."

You're not dumb enough to take the bait, and only wait patiently. After several moments he barks out a laugh, hands rubbing up and down your back soothingly. Distractingly. But it's a nice distraction since your legs waking up is making them burn with righteous fury. 

"It stings." You mumble and his magic crackles again before the sensation fades and you relax against him completely. For what seems like forever he only continues the motions until it begins to tingle across you in a whole new way. It's not magical but your skin feels oversensitive from the constant motion, you wiggle slightly in his lap before his voice rumbles through you.

"Ya did so good for me. Thinkin' you _might_ deserve a reward." You shudder at the tone. It's an instinctive reaction because his rewards were...never what you expected to say the least but you lean back and dutifully wait as he settled his hands on your hips. He wastes no time dragging them closer and harder against his pelvis and now you can feel it, your thighs clenching tightly. You relax and huff a bit as he forces your hips to repeat the motion before removing his hands and linking them behind his head. His eyelights are fuzzy and bright as he laughs at whatever expression you're making. "Go on then, doll, take what ya earned."

You hesitate only long enough to get comfortable then slowly grind against the cock pressing up through his slacks. HIs gaze is on your face but yours falls to your laps, motionless once it lands. You can see the outline of his magic and you clench around nothing, pressing a little harder and using his ribs for purchase. The room is silent save for your deepening breathing, and you can't take your eyes off the picture of you two pressed together as you grind on his lap. The heat coils slowly, like hot a drink spreading straight from between your thighs. 

"There ya go, gorgeous. Doin' so good for me."

That makes you whimper, the sound echoing sharply in the room and it only makes you louder. Now you can feel the wet patch growing and you want to see it stain his pants. You bit your lip and move a little quicker, a little harder. His zipper grinding against you just right when you tilt your hips.

"Always do so good. Sittin' real pretty, lettin' 'em know who ya belong to."

It's hot enough now that you can feel the sweat on the nap of your neck, your fingers dig in harder and he groans. You can feel your face flush darker, eating up both the words and the sounds he's making. You want more, want him to fuck you in the chair while they watch, or let you be his clock-sleeve for the meeting...but you like this. It's good, soft, and fuck- 

"Ya look fuckin' beautiful fuckin' yourself like this. Wanna cum on my thigh, kitten?"

The words make you tense, legs tightening around him and picking up speed. It's a soft permission and you want it. You've earned it. But fuck if you didn't wish the light in his pants was in you. You voice something unintelligible at the thought but then he's touching you. Lifting your chin so you can stare into his eyes. 

"There's my good girl. Gonna cum for me, ain't ya?"

His words send the pressure higher, now your angling yourself to feel him as best you can. The chair makes the faintest scraping noises the higher you get, jerking slightly with each of your movements. Your eyes flutter, flicking from his face, his teeth, to his cock and back. You let out something between a grunt and a whine. A silent plea and when he laughs, you can feel between your legs. 

"That's it. Leggo." His hand tightens on your chin, the other running a fine claw down your back until you choke. If he just-a little more-you need- "Come on, lemme see that pretty 'O' face."

Those words are just enough to make you hit as high as you can go. There's spots as you hold your breath, teeth slicing through your lip as you twitch in his lap softly, continue to grind until you can feel yourself wince at the sensation. There is the smallest bit of a stain on the front of his slacks, almost unnoticeable if not for the glow of his fading magic. With a satisfied sigh you sink onto his chest, pressing your lips to his cheek. 

"Good kitty."


End file.
